An instant later, Keziah cried out, her hands flying to her face. Somehow Grinsa felt it, too. A great pressure on his eyes, as if the man was pressing his fingers into her skull.

“Give yourself to me!”

She whimpered, dropping to her knees.

“Kezil”

“What was that?” the Weaver demanded, the pressure on Grinsa’s eyes ending as suddenly as it had begun.

He wanted to remain there, to learn more about this man, and to repay him for the pain he had caused Keziah. He wanted to yell to her, to rouse her from her sleep. The conspiracy had to be stopped, but she risked too much by seeking out its leader alone.

All Grinsa could do, however, was leave her. As long as he remained he imperiled Keziah and himself. He heard them speaking again, but he didn’t wait to hear any more. He merely whispered, “I love you,” the words as soft as a planting breeze. Then, dread in his heart, he forced himself to leave her.

Opening his eyes, he felt the earth heave and spin. Even sitting, he nearly lost his balance.

“Are you all right?”

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, then looked up at Tavis. “I will be,” he said, his voice ragged.

“I heard you call your sister’s name. You sounded scared.”

Grinsa nodded, feeling a tear on his cheek. “I am.”

The boy just stared at him, waiting.

“She was with another Weaver.”

“What?”

“I think he must lead the conspiracy.”

“Why would she be with such a man?”

Grinsa shrugged, though he knew the answer. She had always been too brave. He was the Weaver, the one who wielded unfathomable power. But Keziah had always been the warrior, fighting battles from which others shied. “She must think that she can learn something of him,” he said at last. “By joining his movement, she seeks the means to destroy it.”

For a long time, Tavis didn’t reply. Finally, staring up at the red moon, he said, “That’s either the most courageous thing I’ve ever heard, or the most foolhardy.”

Grinsa could only shake his head. The boy often made such statements. Utterly unfeeling, and so honest as to leave no room for argument.

Chapter Thirty

City of Kings, Eibithar

No one doubted that the threat of a new war with Aneira loomed like a storm cloud over all Eibithar, and like the king’s other ministers, Wenda had heard rumors of Braedon’s naval activity at the north end of the Scabbard. Kearney would have been remiss had he not taken these threats seriously. Yet it struck her as a measure of how alarmed he was that the king would arrange a meeting between the dukes of Rouvin in Caerisse and Grinnyd in Wethyrn on such short notice and in the middle of the snows. Aylyn the Second, the old king, whom she served for fourteen years, would have issued invitations to the two men only after a good deal of discussion and planning.

This was not to say that she disapproved of Kearney’s decision. On the contrary-she admired his boldness. But once more she could not help but notice the vast difference between the two kings she had served. Some of it sprang from Kearney’s youth, the rest from contrasts in their natures. Regardless of the cause, however, Wenda still found herself questioning whether she was suited to serving this new king.

Under the best of circumstances, a meeting between the two dukes would have presented great challenges to their host. Caerisse and Wethyrn had long been enemies. Over the course of their history, the two lands had fought several major wars and dozens of smaller skirmishes. Their most recent conflict, the so-called Queen’s War, had ended just over a century before and had led to an uneasy peace along Orlagh’s River, the border between the two realms. Though both had strong ties to Eibithar, this had never been enough to overcome their mutual hostility, which was rooted in an ancient dispute over a narrow strip of land now held by Caerisse.

Kearney would need both as allies if there was to be war with Braedon and Aneira. Neither Wethyrn nor Caerisse was considered a major power in the Forelands. Caerisse had been great once, but it had been supplanted long ago by Eibithar, Sanbira, Aneira, and, of course, the Braedon Empire. But the Caerissan army would be of great importance in the event of a land war along the Tarbin, and Wethyrn’s navy, while small, still enjoyed a well-deserved reputation as the finest among the six, second only to Braedon’s in all the Forelands.

The dukes of both Rouvin and Grinnyd, though not of their realms’ royal families, wielded great influence with the men who led the kingdoms. If Kearney could convince them that it was in the interests of Caerisse and Wethyrn to put aside their differences and form an alliance with Eibithar, they in turn, might convince their leaders.

Unfortunately, Kearney’s already formidable task had been greatly complicated by recent events here in Audun’s Castle. One needed only to look as far as the seating for this night’s welcoming feast in the castle’s great hall to perceive the depth of the king’s troubles. Wenda, who would normally have been seated at a lesser table with the rest of the king’s underministers, had been placed instead at the table of honor, just next to the archminister.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her. Like the other ministers, Wenda had watched as the resentment and mistrust between Keziah and the king deepened. She even thought that she understood. There had been rumors about the two of them almost from the moment they arrived in the City of Kings. They had been lovers in Glyndwr, these stories said, bound by a passion so great that they defied the law of the land and risked the honor of Kearney’s house for a forbidden love. Though Wenda disapproved of such scandalous talk, particularly where it concerned the king, she could not help but believe all that she had heard. It explained so much-not only the bitterness of their estrangement, but also the awkwardness that had come before.

Still, recognizing the source of this rift between Keziah and the king did not make her any less fearful of what it could mean for Eibithar. In recent days, Wenda had begun to find fault with much of the counsel Keziah offered the king. It almost seemed that the archminister wanted him to make bad decisions. On those few occasions when her advice made sense, Kearney ignored her, as if he no longer trusted anything she said. It would have been best for all concerned had he just ordered Keziah to leave his court-her service to him had all but ended anyway. Keeping her here benefited no one.

But Wenda sensed that Kearney was incapable of sending her away. Perhaps he still loved her, or perhaps his sense of loyalty for the years she had served him in Glyndwr prevented it. Whatever the reason, her continued presence in the castle endangered the king and all who served him faithfully.

The high minister had never liked Keziah-she and the other ministers had resented Kearney’s decision to make her archminister, passing over Dyre and Paegar and Wenda herself, all of whom had served in Audun’s Castle for years. Indeed, in some small way, their hostility to her might have contributed to her unhappiness. But though Wenda didn’t care for the woman, she hadn’t thought to question Keziah’s loyalty, at least until now. With word of the Qirsi conspiracy spreading through the Forelands like smoke from a grass fire, it was both foolish and dangerous to allow this woman to work each day beside Eibithar’s king. If the conspiracy’s leaders hadn’t already lured her into their movement, they would soon. It should have been clear to all of them. Certainly Gershon Trasker should have seen it. As swordmaster and leader of the King’s Guard, he was responsible for Kearney’s safety. Yet he did nothing.

The king’s answer was to treat Wenda as a second archminister. He turned to her now as he once did to Keziah, asking for her counsel on all matters before anyone else’s, and having her draft messages to his dukes and lesser nobles. She had never imagined that he would go so far as to seat her at the table of honor, but she should have known better. He couldn’t rid himself of Keziah, but he couldn’t trust her either.